


Drabbles II

by rosastairs



Series: prompts [2]
Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Dialogue prompts, Multi, another collection of fics, skip through if you want to see a certain pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosastairs/pseuds/rosastairs
Summary: a collection of dialogue prompts requested on my tumblrtumblr: emmarosales





	1. kitty—“you could have died.”

It was dark when Ty finally woke. He supposed that the dimness of the room was a good thing. Coming out of unconsciousness to blinding and disorienting light was never his first choice.

 

He blinked, trying to sort his dreams from reality. He had been at a warehouse. There had been a demon. Kit had been hurt.

 

 _Kit had been hurt._  Ty tried to sit up and winced at the pain that lanced through him. His shoulder burned with the memory of demon fangs.

 

Oh right. He’d also been hurt.

 

Ty tried not to think about how close he’d come to death, that would only stress him out. He flapped his left hand once to shake out his excess energy. He felt electrically charged and as if something were squeezing his heart, making it difficult to take deep breaths.

 

He slowly pulled himself up until he was leaning against the headboard. He smoothed the sheets over his legs, just to give his hands something to do. The darkness suddenly felt very stifling, restricting his ability to seize control of his situation.

 

Ty fumbled for the nightstand. He vaguely remembered steles being left there in case a patient needed an emergency iratze or a blood replenishing rune.

 

His fingers closed around the smooth demon bone of the stele and he heard someone in the dark room move.

 

“Ty?” Kit’s voice, groggy from sleep. Ty started, fumbling the stele in his hand. He steadied himself and inked a night vision rune onto the inside of his left forearm.

 

After the faint heat of the rune faded, Ty’s vision adjusted. The room came into focus, the orderly beds, the high vaulted ceiling, the stacks of bloody bandages next to him. Night vision runes made all the colors muted, almost gray.

 

Kit was sitting on the bed next to Ty’s. His blond hair was sticking straight up on one side of his head where he’d had it pressed against a pillow. Ty’s stomach did a flip when he saw the dark circles under Kit’s eyes. How long had he been out?

 

He coughed, trying to find his voice. Kit practically leaped from the bed and lunged for the water pitcher. Ty watched him jerkily pour water. He’d gotten very good at reading Kit over the years, but even a stranger would’ve been able to tell how worried Kit was. It was written in the line of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw.

 

“Are you okay?” Ty asked.

 

Kit took a deep breath. “Am I okay?” He shook his head, movements too jerky for him to look completely at ease. “Ty you’ve been out for three days, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

 

Ty groaned. “Three days?” No wonder he felt heavy and stiff.

 

Kit handed him the glass of water, his finger trembling slightly. Ty gripped the cool glass and drank, wincing as the water touched his parched throat. He forced himself to drain the glass, ignoring the way his mouth tasted like dust.

 

Ty leaned back, studying Kit as he sat on the edge of the bed. Kit still had the faint scars from the demon ichor he’d taken in the face. One of his cheekbones was shiny with an almost healed burn. The half formed desire to brush his fingers along the scars made Ty’s hands twitch. He focused on Kit’s shoulder as Kit studied his face.

 

“I’m fine.” Ty muttered. The line of Kit’s collarbone was exposed above the collar of his shirt, a pulse thrummed in his neck.

 

Kit made a noise somewhere between a snort and a choke. “You didn’t hear yourself scream.”

 

Ty realized that Kit was shaking. Probably from warring fear and relief. His gaze was trained on Ty’s face, but not his eyes.

 

“I did hear myself scream.”

 

Kit shook himself. “Not like I did.”

 

Ty reached for Kit’s hand over the blankets, curling his fingers into his own. The contact pulsed through him. Kit’s palm was warm, the touch of his skin familiar.

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“You could have died.” Kit blurted, the words sounded as if they’d been ripped from somewhere deep inside. “And I wouldn’t have been able to stop it.” He swallowed. “You woke up and asked me if _I_ thought you were going to die.”

 

Ty’s heart twisted. “ I don’t remember that.”

 

Kit squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m glad, that’s one memory we don’t need to share.” He yawned, trying to stifle it in the hand that wasn’t holding Ty’s.

 

Ty tugged on Kit’s wrist. “You should sleep.”

 

“Can I stay with you?”

 

Ty stared at him. Kit’s eyes were already closing and Ty realized that he didn’t want to let go of Kit’s hand just yet. He pulled Kit towards him, kissing the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. “Yeah, you can stay.”

 

Kit nodded and curled his legs up onto the bed, shifting so that he was lying beside Ty. His hair tickled Ty’s chin as he rested his head on Ty’s chest, breath brushing the hollow of Ty’s throat. Ty’s arm went around him instinctively. Funny how that happened, that he could wake up one morning and put an arm around someone without second guessing their body language or worrying that he’d done something wrong.

 

Ty stared at ceiling until his night vision rune faded, feeling the rise and fall of Kit’s chest. The last time he’d fallen unconscious the stars had come spinning towards him, too fast and too loud. Now they floated to him out of the dark, enveloping him in the blanket of sleep and silence.


	2. haline—“sometimes, being a complete nerd comes in handy.”

“Aline watch out!” Helen cried from somewhere to Aline’s left. Aline barely had time to register the large refrigerator hurtling towards her. 

 

She dove to the side, rolling into a crouch as the fridge crashed next to her. The plastic and metal twisted with a shriek, a piece of metal grazing Aline’s arm as it flew past her. She glanced towards where Helen was standing—intending to thank her for the heads up—and froze, her words sticking in her throat.

 

The demon they’d been fighting had morphed into an even bigger version of itself. Its skin was a riot of purple and yellow, spikes sticking out of its vaguely lizard shaped body, if lizards walked on their hind legs and were two stories tall. Where before it had looked mildly frightening it now looked terrifying.

 

“What the fuck.” Aline muttered under her breath. “Helen! What the fuck!” 

 

Helen ducked a blow from the creature and fetched up against the side of a building. She threw an exasperated look at Aline. Some her blonde hair had escaped its braid and was floating around her face. “What?” She shouted back.

 

Aline ran towards the demon from the other side, keeping Helen in view. “How did it get big?” 

 

Helen darted back and forth, keeping their target occupied. “Hell if I know!” 

 

Aline pulled out a knife and threw it as hard as she could. It flew swiftly, cutting a path through the air before hitting its target in the demon’s side. 

 

The demon roared in pain, but it didn’t seem to be anything more than mildly inconvenienced. Helen caught Aline’s gaze from across the courtyard and grinned. Her smile made Aline smile too, made her heart beat faster, made her catch her breath. “Nice one!” She shouted. 

 

The demon spotted an opening in Helen’s distraction and jabbed its fist towards her. Before Aline could scream a warning Helen had jumped up and kicked off of the brick wall, drawing her seraph blade. Aline didn’t hear the name of the angel she invoked, but the seraph blade blazed to life as Helen used her momentum and vaulted towards the demon. 

 

She was glorious. Aline watched Helen come down in a blur of black gear and light from her blade. Helen drove her sword home where the demon’s heart should have been, kicking over its head before jumping down and landing beside Aline. 

 

They both turned, expecting to see the demon crumbling from Helen’s blow. They were faced with an extremely angry, roaring demon. It appeared to have brushed Helen’s stab off and was turning towards where Helen and Aline stood glaring accusingly at it. 

 

“Any ideas?” Aline asked Helen as they dove behind a parked car. 

 

Helen’s eyes scanned their surroundings, the blue green vivid against her pale golden hair. Her face lit up. “Distract Godzilla for me.” 

 

“Who?”

 

“The demon.” Helen grinned at her. “I have  _ got  _ to show you some movies.”

 

Growing up in LA, Helen had a wider knowledge of pop culture than most Shadowhunters did. Aline had always been more of a book person, but she loved watching Helen light up when she talked about the newest Marvel movie, or else groaning about how terrible the newest Marvel movie was. 

 

Wondering what mundane movie could possibly have the word Godzilla in it, Aline moved out from behind the car just as the demon smashed the vehicle to pieces. The crunch of metal grated on Aline’s ears as she wove towards the demon. 

 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Helen, running flat out towards the appliance store. The wares of the store were spread out in front of the smashed window, including the refrigerator that had been tossed at Aline. 

 

The demon growled in defiance as Aline ran in between its legs, slashing out with two swords and cutting into the monsters calves. Her ponytail whipped around as she pivoted and jumped away from the demon’s clawed and spiky hand. The heat of battle roared through her blood. 

 

She heard Helen shout. Aline ducked the demon’s next blow and ran to where Helen was gesturing frantically at her. Aline realized that Helen was carrying what appeared to be several very long electrical cords tied together to form a rope. 

 

Helen grabbed her hand and squeezed, an almost unconscious gesture, as if Aline were steadying her in a whirlwind. “We’re going to wrap this around the demon’s legs.”

 

“And then trip it.” Aline grinned at her. “And then finish it off.”

 

Helen nodded and handed Aline one end of the cord. “Let’s hope this works.”

 

The demon roared, swinging one of its massive legs down in between them. Aline sprinted to the side, managing to wrap her end of the cord around the demon’s legs once before passing Helen, who was going the other way. 

 

Around and around they went until the demon toppled, falling from the yank Helen had given the taut rope. Aline leaped up, moving before the demon even hit the ground, and sliced off its head. 

 

Black and purple blood sprayed across the cobblestones, filling the air with the smell of rotten garbage and a festering wound. Aline backed away as the demon dissolved into shadows. 

 

Helen whooped, coming over to where Aline was cleaning the ichor of her blade. There was a scratch on one of her cheeks, red blood smeared on her face. Aline stopped herself from wiping the blood away. 

 

Aline smiled at her. “How’d you think of that? The tie-it-up-and-take-it-down thing?”

 

Helen’s cheeks went pink. “Oh, um, actually I got the idea from Star Wars.”

 

Star Wars. That didn’t ring any bells. Perhaps it was a mundane war? That didn’t sound right. Aline stared at Helen blankly.

 

Helen groaned. “Are you serious? I can’t believe my girlfriend doesn’t know what Star Wars is.” She looked genuinely baffled. “Anyways, they tie up walking robot thingies and stop them.”

 

“That sounds like a horrible movie.” Aline said, sheathing her blade.

 

Helen gave a mock gasp. “How dare you, Star Wars is the highest form of art.” She paused. “Also, it makes more sense when you watch the movie.”

 

Aline shook her head, a smile quirking her lips. “Nerd.” She muttered affectionately. 

 

Helen bumped her shoulder against Aline’s. “Well as you just witnessed.” She spread her arms wide, as if standing in front of an adoring crowd. “Sometimes, being a complete nerd comes in handy.”


	3. haline—“we have to be quiet.”

Helen was sitting on the foot of her bed, the blue coverlet rumpled from her hasty movements. She smoothed the front of her pajamas and fussed with her hair, combing it twice before she achieved an attractively tousled look. Her pulse thrummed nervously.

 

The windowpane squeaked as it slid up. Helen turned just in time to see Aline poke her head over the sill. Helen jumped up a bit too fast to help Aline into the moonlit room. 

 

Aline was a little breathless from climbing the wall. Her black hair was pinned back impeccably, her eyes twinkled mischievously in the darkness.

 

“You have no idea how hard it was to sneak down here.” Aline said. “I had to dive behind a bush when I saw Maryse Lightwood coming.”

 

Helen shushed her frantically. “We have to be quiet.” She whispered, wondering if Aline had ever actually snuck into someone’s bedroom before. She brushed that thought off as unhelpful. The light from the demon towers filtered in through the curtains as she twitched them closed. 

 

“Okay.” Aline whispered back, crossing to the bed and sitting down gently. She was wearing jeans and an impossibly soft looking sweater. 

 

Helen sat down awkwardly beside her. She had no idea how this was supposed to work. What happened when you snuck your girlfriend into your room in the middle of the night? “Sorry, it’s just, my family doesn’t know that you’re here.”

 

Aline rolled her eyes. “Obviously, or I would have knocked on the front door.” 

 

Helen bit her lip. “Oh. Right.”

 

Their knees bumped, tendrils of warmth threaded their way to Helen’s chest. Aline looked partially amused and partially nervous. Helen watched her throat move as she swallowed. The space between the two of them suddenly felt like too much. 

 

Aline moved first, gripping Helen’s shoulders firmly. Helen was barely aware that she gasped softly when they kissed. 

 

Aline’s mouth was purposeful and warm. Her lips moved slowly, undoing Helen with each firm press. Aline’s scent was everywhere, the scent of old books and the mint shampoo she used. Helen felt intoxicated by the sheer novelty of a girl kissing her, in her room, in the dead of night. 

 

Helen found herself pressing closer, moving her hands to undo Aline’s perfectly neat hair. The other girl sighed against her mouth and Helen felt heat course through her, gathering low in the pit of her stomach. 

 

When they pulled away it was for the quickest of breaths. Both of them were gasping as if they’d run a long distance. Helen’s heart was beating rapidly. 

 

“Did you put on strawberry lip gloss for me?” Aline murmured against Helen’s lips. Her breath was hot. 

 

Helen felt herself blush, glad that Aline couldn’t see it in the dim light. “Maybe...” 

 

Aline kissed her again. Hands sliding on the bare skin under Helen’s pajamas. Helen tried to mirror her intentions, pulling Aline’s sweater up and over her head, revealing the sports bra underneath. 

 

For a moment she stopped and stared at the smooth planes of Aline’s skin. Black marks edged the curves of her ribs and hipbones. Helen’s throat went dry. 

 

And then Aline was pushing her onto her back and into the covers, kissing down the line of her throat. Helen’s hands trailed down the ridge of Aline’s spine before gripping the waistband of her jeans. The weight of Aline straddling her was something she could definitely get used to.

 

The light flickered on, blinding Helen in a burst of white. 

 

“By the Angel!” A voice shrieked. 

 

Aline jumped away from Helen as if she’d been burned, retreating to a corner of the room. She wrapped her arms around her exposed torso and stared stubbornly at the ground. Something about her looking so scared and vulnerable made Helen’s heart twist.

 

Helen glared at her younger brother, Mark. He was standing in the doorway with a mixed expression of shock and delight at having caught his older sister. Helen made steady eye contact with him, trying not to look embarrassed.

 

“What do you want pest?” 

 

Mark stuck his tongue out at her. “I was going to ask you if you’d seen my stele, but apparently not.”

 

Helen glared at him some more. “Why do you even need your stele at midnight?”

 

“None of your business.”

 

“Ugh. Just go back to bed.” Helen groaned, trying to tell Aline through eye contact that it was okay, that it was harmless, that Mark was totally cool with them being together. Aline was still fascinated by the carpet. 

 

Mark shot her a stink eye and raised his voice. “Daaaadd!” 

 

Helen rushed towards him, not knowing what she intended to do, just know that she needed to shut him up. “I’ll kill you.” She hissed at him. “I’ll actually kill you!” 

 

Aline meanwhile, had grabbed her sweater and leaped straight out of the window, unpinned hair flying haphazardly behind her like a banner. Helen listened for a scream of pain, but none came, which meant Aline had landed safely. 

 

She had managed to get Mark in a headlock. His blond hair got into her mouth and she choked and spit. “You little demon!” She shouted. Mark squawked and flapped his arms like a wounded duck. 

 

Their dad came running, thundering into the room with a sword in his hands, his hair sticking up in all directions. “What’s wrong?” He yelled, evidently ready for battle. He scowled at the two of them when he realized nothing majorly life threatening was taking place. “It’s the middle of the night! What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing!” Helen said, giving Mark a hard pinch. He yelped in pain. Andrew Blackthorn gave them both a suspicious look. Helen smiled guiltily, pinching Mark again. 

 

“Nothing.” He muttered. Helen grudgingly let him go. He shot her a superior look and rubbed his neck.

 

Andrew shook his head. “Good. Now go to sleep. It’s too late for this sort of thing.”


	4. gabrily—“close the door.”

There was a loud shriek of pain from down the street. Gabriel jolted up from his place in the carriage and poked his head out of the open door. 

 

The sky was gray, rain drizzling down onto the cobblestones of London. Gabriel’s hair turned damp with mist. He had a clear view up and down the empty street and the sight that greeted him was almost welcome.

 

It would have been welcome if not for the vampire. 

 

Gabriel saw Cecily first, as he always did. Her rain wet hair pulled back from her face in a braid that swung as she ran. Her face was set and determined, eyes blazing with glorious purpose. His heart always stopped a little when she looked like that. 

 

The vampire in front of her appeared more than a little terrified. His pale face pinched and strained. Blood stained his chin like a beard and covered the front of his waistcoat, ribboning red behind him from a wound in his side.

 

Cecily and Gabriel were on a mission to kill the vampire that had been murdering dozens of mundanes from all over London. They’d found a warehouse filled with corpses that had led them here, to a cramped narrow street on the outskirts of the city. 

 

Gabriel nocked an arrow, drawing the string back in a practiced movement. He met Cecily’s eyes, instantly knowing what she was planning. She pulled two knives from their holsters on her thighs and nodded to him. 

 

He let his arrow fly, straight into the vampire’s rapidly moving foot. The vampire cried out and crumpled to the cobblestones. Cecily made almost no noise as she skidded lightly to a halt beside the fallen man. Cyril whistled softly. “Nice shot.” He told Gabriel. Cyril was perched on the driver’s seat, waiting to take them home.

 

Gabriel didn’t need to see what happened next. He ducked back into the carriage as the sound of Cecily’s blades slicing through bone and tissue echoed through the rain. 

 

A moment later Cecily bounced into the carriage, cleaning her knives by wiping the blood on the scarlet interior. She handed him his arrow that he’d shot at the vampire and smiled at him. 

 

“Thanks.” He said, placing the arrow gently back into his quiver. Cecily said nothing in return, just fiddled with the handle of one of her daggers. 

 

Gabriel could see how tense she was, coiled with the the electricity of battle and maybe a little guilt over killing someone. 

 

“There’s nothing you could have done.” He murmured, undoing the straps of his gear and tugging it off to reveal the white shirt he had on underneath. “Sometimes you have to kill people who do horrible things.”

 

Cecily was giving him a funny look, maybe because he was trying to give words of comfort. “It’s different with demons.” She said. “They don’t have emotions like we do.”

 

“That vampire—” Gabriel began.

 

“Colin Flinch.” Cecily broke in, voice a little shaky.

 

“Colin Flinch.” Gabriel amended. “He murdered dozens of people brutally. You just saved lives Cece.”

 

She met his gaze steadily, her eyes were a little too shiny. “I know that, but knowing doesn’t make it any better.” 

 

Gabriel leaned back. “I understand.”

 

Cecily mirrored him, her legs bumping his across the small space. “You do?”

 

“I killed my own father, remember?” Gabriel said. There was a painful pinch in his gut. He could still see the arrow cutting a path of destruction as it flew, before dealing the killing blow against the creature that had once been his father. He could feel the numb disbelief that had followed, along with the guilt of trying to preserve the imagine of his father that he wanted to remember. The father who had patiently shown him how to hold a sword, who had always been there to catch him if he fell. “I know Will made it into a joke, but I understand how it feels to kill something that had the potential to be more in the world. To give happiness instead of death and pain. To live fully instead of being slain like a pest.”

 

Cecily squeezed his hand. Her palm was soft and Gabriel could feel her pulse beating beneath his fingers, light a feather and strong as steel. “I never did like those jokes.” She muttered. “Remind me to kick Will when we next have family dinner.” 

 

Gabriel laughed. Cecily looked pleased with herself. He didn’t laugh often. “I can’t believe it’s been five years.” He said. “Five years of knowing you and fighting beside you.”

 

She winked at him. “We do indeed make a fine team.” 

 

He smiled. The day somehow seemed brighter when she smiled back.

 

“Close the door.” She said, still smiling, and reached underneath the seat to where she’d stashed her clothes.

 

Gabriel reached out and latched the door, pulling the hangings closed. In the dim light of the carriage he could see Cecily undoing her gear.

 

Undoing her gear. He stared directly at the wall in front of him, hoping that he did not look as embarrassed as he felt. He could hear the sounds of rustling fabric as Cecily removed her gear. 

 

There was an unladylike grunt and Cecily groaned. “Help me with this?” 

 

Gabriel forced himself to look at her. The gentleman in him was screaming that this was improper. His heart stuttered.

 

Cecily had her dress pulled over her head and it was bunched around her shoulders, revealing the thin fabric she wore underneath. He could see the outline of her shoulder blades. Her hands were stuck in the sleeves. She looked faintly embarrassed. 

 

“Uh.” He said, a silver tongued devil. 

 

Cecily rolled her eyes. “Just pull the dress down you beautiful man.”

 

Gabriel felt himself go bright red. He tentatively grasped the fabric and moved it down. The skirt slid down only partially before he realized that Cecily had somehow managed to get her hem tucked up and out of the collar of the dress. 

 

Before he could lose his nerve he slid his hand up under and pulled it free, hands brushing the curve of her spine. It would have been awkward if not for Cecily’s sudden intake of breath and the way she leaned into him. He was suddenly very aware of the way her black hair curled against the back of her neck. 

 

He realized he was still holding the dress’s skirt in his hands and hastily dropped it. The fabric swished down around her ankles and she gave him a disbelieving stare. 

 

“What?” He asked. His voice sounded hoarse.

 

Cecily swished her skirt from side to side and leaned towards him. The carriage was cramped, and they were almost touching. Gabriel felt her breath ghost across his cheek. 

 

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” 

 

Gabriel determinedly looked at her face, not down the front of her dress. Although he did notice the faint sheen of sweat on her collarbones. He focused on the tiny sprinkling of freckles across her nose and the playful quirk of her mouth. 

 

He cleared his throat. Cecily giggled. “By the Angel I really do need to spell it out.” And then she was kissing him. 

 

Gabriel was not aware of anything except Cecily. Her breath, her mouth, her skin, her hair as he cupped her cheek softly. Everything in the universe seemed to disappear in the space between their lips. He closed his eyes as she pressed closer.

 

And he was suddenly abruptly aware that she was sitting on his lap, fingers digging into his shoulders. She tilted his head back and trailed kisses down his throat, mouth burning on his skin. 

 

He hasn’t realized that he’d made any sound, but Cecily gave a little moan in return, trailing back up his neck to kiss his jawline. And his hands were under her dress, trailing up what seemed like miles and miles of skin, and she was gasping softly, tangling her fingers in his hair. 

 

There was a sharp knock on the carriage door. Cecily leaped back, knocking her head on the ceiling. She swore loudly before opening the door to Cyril, who looked bemusedly from Cecily’s unruffled but flushed demeanor, to Gabriel, who probably looked like a mess. Gabriel tried to meet Cyril’s eyes unwaveringly before he realized that his shirt was unbuttoned down to the waist. He flushed an even brighter shade of red. 

 

“Are we ready to go?” Cyril asked. His mouth twitched as if he was trying not to smile. 

 

“Yes, yes.” Cecily said quickly. Her hair had been pulled partially out of its braid and she surreptitiously tried to fix it. “Thank you Cyril!” She called after him as he climbed into the driver’s seat. 

 

Gabriel gaped at her. Cecily slammed the door closed and turned to him. She burst out laughing. 

 

“What?” He asked.

 

She kissed him again, lightly this time, a soft brush of lips that promised more to come. “You should see your face.” 


	5. sophideon— “i still remember the way you taste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the italics are a flashback/dream just fyi

Sophie rolled over in her sleep. Gideon felt her press against his side, warm through their layers of clothes. 

 

They were sprawled on his bed, comfortably a few inches apart. It was dark outside and the only light in the room was from an oil lamp, flickering yellow in the dimness. 

 

The day had been eventful. Gideon had gone on a mission with Tessa, infiltrating an undercover demon cult. The mission had ended with Sophie and Cecily bailing them out in an epic battle that had ended with Sophie impaling the leading demon with a chandelier, and Cecily setting the building on fire. 

 

They’d come back buzzed from fighting to a very irritated Gabriel, who’d made them dinner and sent them off to bed like the mother that he was. Gideon did not think he’d seen Sophie laugh so hard in a long time, ash smudged on her cheek, eyes bright and glittering as Gabriel pretended to hate them all. Her smile had made his heart soar. 

 

Now that they had cleaned the demon ichor off of themselves they could relax. Gideon felt sore and bone weary, but there was something comforting about simply lying next to Sophie, watching her breathe in and out.

 

He sighed and turned to gaze at the canopy of the bed above him. Shadows filled the corners of the room, dancing in the occasionally flickering light from the oil lamp.

 

“I still remember the way you taste.” Sophie mumbled.

 

Gideon glanced back down at her, pulse leaping. Sophie’s eyes were half closed and she was smiling slightly, her face tilted towards his. The light cast deep shadows over the scar on her cheek. 

 

“Hm?” He pulled her closer to him and she tucked her chin onto his chest as he wound his arm around her.

 

Almost without thinking he moved his fingers to trace her scar. Sophie hummed contentedly under her breath. It had taken her months of careful flirtation before she’d become fully casual with affectionate gestures. When she’d first reached to brush his hair out of his eyes Gideon’s pulse had stuttered. 

 

“I remember how you taste as well.” He whispered, fatigue slurring his words. 

 

She laughed gently and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. Gideon fell asleep to the image of her smile and the sound of her laugh.

 

_ She was illuminated in golden light. Light that spilled around her and fanned into the high corners of the room.  _

 

_ People were milling around. Gentlemen in sharp lined waistcoats and shoes that gleamed. Ladies in gowns that fell in waterfalls of fabric, spilling jewels and lace freely. _

 

_ Everywhere were marks. Twining up a girl’s bare arm in vines of black. Curling out of shirt collars and kissing the slim skin of wrists. The small touches of black somehow made the room appear more somber, darker, more like a gathering of warriors than a party, despite the tapping of heels and the lilting music in the background. _

 

_ Gideon felt his eyes drawn to the rune on Sophie’s neck. A sudden, shocking reminder that she was a Shadowhunter now, that he could be with her. Of course he wouldn’t have cared if she was a mundane, but there was something strangely exhilarating about being able to walk to her in the middle of a Shadowhunter party and take her hand. _

 

_ The light glinted off the Lightwood ring on her left hand. The pale green of her dress made the brown of her hair seem very dark and silvered the skin of her scar. Gideon tentatively brushed a loose curl behind her ear and was rewarded when Sophie flushed. _

 

_ “You look beautiful.” He told her, hoping that he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. There was something about being near her that always gave him butterflies. The good kind of butterflies. _

 

_ “So do you.” Sophie said quickly. She promptly hid her face in her hands. “I mean, handsome. You look handsome.” _

 

_ Gideon felt his face go red. “Beautiful works too.”  _

 

_ At that Sophie looked up. Her eyes were bright. The silence stretched between them to the tune of the violins in the background. _

 

_ Finally she snagged a fluted glass of champagne from a table. Almost as an afterthought she handed Gideon a drink too. The amber liquid glimmered as she tilted her head back to take a gulp. _

 

_ Gideon took a slow sip and smiled at her. She smiled back before downing her entire glass in one swallow. Gideon watched, impressed.  _

 

_ She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dancing couples. Gideon focused on the point where their fingers laced together, heat pulsing between their skin. _

 

_ The music swirled up around them as they danced. Gideon led Sophie slowly through the paces, always a step slower since she’d never learned how to waltz. Her skirt belled out around her as he twirled her, whirling and whirling in a cascade of green. When the song ended and they were pressed together he realized that she still had glistening champagne on her lower lip. _

 

_ It was most certainly improper. It was something done in the heat of the dance and the heat of their touching bodies. Gideon didn’t think, he just leaned forward and kissed her.  _

 

_ She tasted like champagne and sweat. She tasted like ambrosia and nectar. She tasted like the sound of his heartbeat when he saw her. She tasted like the sun in the morning and the stars at night.  _

 

_ He would always remember the way she tasted.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure I’m happy with how this turned out, but they deserve more content because they invented heterosexuality and that’s just the tea


	6. jemma—“was that supposed to hurt?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little something that takes place before lady midnight

“Do you think you’ll like England?” Emma asked.

 

Light reflected off of the golden blade of Cortana as she whirled gracefully in a deadly blur. 

 

Julian leaned back on his palms. “Yeah I think it’ll be good for me.”  _ Good to get away. To exist outside of the influence of muscles and bruises under suntanned skin.  _

 

The wooden dummy fell away in two neat pieces, clattering to the floor of the training room. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Emma turned to look at Julian, adorable crease between her eyebrows. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail that swung hypnotically as she moved. The cloth of her tank top clung to her with sweat. Julian tried not to stare. 

 

“I think it’s dead.” He said in an attempt to change the subject. nodding to the dismantled dummy. 

 

Emma gave a nod of approval, not dwelling on whatever he’d left unsaid. She swung Cortana experimentally one last time before sheathing the blade at her side. Then she turned towards him with a smirk on her face. Almost lazily she assumed a loose fighting stance. “You wanna go?” 

 

Julian pretended to think about it. There wasn’t really any question. Emma knew that. With an exaggerated sigh he stood and went to stand in front of her, the wrestling mat below him squeaked as he kicked off his shoes. 

 

“I’ll go easy on you.” He tilted his head at her and grinned. 

 

He barely had time to see her eyes narrow in concentration. In a flash she dropped into a crouch and kicked out at his kneecaps, knocking him off balance. The world shifted around him as he fell.

 

Before he could use the momentum of his fall to propel himself upright, the weight of Emma settled on top of him. Her forearm pressed against his throat, her brown eyes inches from his own. 

 

His throat went dry. He forced himself to look her in the eyes, so close that he could count each of her eyelashes. Sweat glistened at her temples and her hair was coming undone, blonde strands sticking out in spikes. 

 

Julian swallowed. His heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest. His parabatai rune burned almost painfully as he dragged his gaze away from Emma’s and to where her forearm met his throat. 

 

“Was that supposed to hurt?” His voice cracked but Emma was too busy standing up to notice his brief slip back into twelve year old boy. 

 

She grinned down at him, light dancing around her, and dusted her palms off on her training pants. “Trust me Jules,” she said, “if I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew I haven’t written since May, but I’m glad I finally wrote something even if it is short and a pairing that I don’t usually write! surprising that I’m more motivated during the school year tbh


	7. haline—“i thought you were dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place during the beginning dayzzz (red scrolls of magic)

At the end of the hallway a door opened into a large room. Aline blinked at the sudden onslaught of bright light from the windows that lined the far wall. Through the glass she could see the green of the lawn that stretched for acres behind the house. 

 

She touched the seraph blade at her side for comfort and scanned the room. 

 

The polished wood floor was marred by burns. A pentagram was painted in the center of the space amid scraps of paper and half melted candles. 

 

Aline picked up a newspaper clipping, the edges were charred and smudged her fingers black with ash. The date on the newspaper read  _ 1928 _ .

 

_ What the hell.  _ She thought, taking one more step into the vast room, footsteps made inaudible by the runes she’d inked onto her skin an hour ago. 

 

_ —the night before— _

 

“What’s the plan?” Alec said, brushing the dark hair off of his forehead. 

 

Magnus sighed and took a sip of what had to be his third coffee. It was late and through the curtains Aline could see the yellow illumination of street lights. 

 

Aline didn’t know if Magnus has rented the flat they were staying in, or if he owned it from the previous years he’d lived in Venice. Aline didn’t know much about Magnus. She still didn’t know whether she trusted him. All of the things she’d been taught about warlocks kept spinning around inside her skull.

 

_ The most dangerous downworlders.  _ Her mother had once told her over dinner. 

 

Her father had chuckled and replied.  _ No, that’d be the faeries.  _

 

“Well obviously somebody has to go in.” Helen said, sitting down beside Aline, carefully holding her freshly made coffee. 

 

Aline jumped, making sure to put space between their legs, painfully aware of the other girl’s bare skin. She didn’t know why Helen made her feel so jumpy, Aline had always been self assured and confident. 

 

Magnus sighed. “We don’t know what enchantments are laid on the house. I can’t enter because there are undoubtedly anti-warlock spells that’ll keep out any warlock who might be after information” 

 

“Can’t you get through those spells?” Alec asked. 

 

“Definitely, but it’ll be much quicker for you three to exercise your shadowhunter rights and perform a search. No downworlder in their right mind is going to stop you outright.” 

 

Helen leaned forward, pale blond hair shifting to reveal the pointed tips of her ears. “Won’t it be more discreet if only one of us goes in? There might be spells against multiple people entering at once right?” 

 

Magnus nodded, light glinting off his earrings. “We just need to get a look around, that’s all. See if there’s been any demon summoning and the like.”

 

“Yeah it’s not a raid.” Alec said, tapping one finger thoughtfully. “We don’t need to all go.” He sat up straighter. “I can do it.”

 

Aline watched the barely perceptible shift in Magnus’s face before he opened his mouth to undoubtedly argue against Alec putting himself in danger.  _ So it is more dangerous than he’s letting on. _

 

“I’ll go.” She said, feigning indifference. “I’ve always wanted to see an illegal warlock lair.” 

 

“Oh.” Helen said, sounding disappointed. “Are you sure?”

 

Aline shot her a look. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

 

Helen took a hurried sip of coffee. “No reason—never mind.”

 

Magnus and Alec exchanged a glance that Aline couldn’t read and she glared at Alec until he returned his attention back to the blueprints of the warlocks’ house. “Okay then.” He muttered. “Let’s do this.”

 

-

 

The entire house shook. Dust rained down from the ceiling as Aline stumbled and righted herself. Her sight rune on the back of her hand tingled, and as she looked she realized that warlock runes had been painted and scratched and scribbled around the room. Webs of glowing blue runes traced themselves, crisscrossing under Aline’s feet in rows, their shapes foreign to her eyes. 

 

Scraps of paper blew in a whirlwind as the floor began to bend upwards, the house giving a concerning rumble. 

 

Aline realized what was about to happen and sprang into action. As she ran towards one of the giant windows she caught a glimpse of a strangely familiar rune painted larger than the others on the far wall, it’s lines stark against the wallpaper. 

 

She brought her arms up to protect her head and, as she hit the glass, the house exploded behind her. 

 

Heat seared at her back as Aline went through the windowpane, shards of glass raining down around her. 

 

She hit the lawn and rolled into a crouch, trying to run to get away from the worst of the debris. A second boom knocked her to her stomach and left her ear ringing. Blood rushed down her side and glass cut into her palms. Pain, sharp and hot, coursed through her.

 

She didn’t know how long she lay there disoriented until a voice shouted her name.

 

“Aline!” Helen cried skidding to a stop on the torched grass. “By the angel Aline.” Her voice cracked as she fumbled with her stele, bringing it to the side of Aline’s head. 

 

Aline blinked woozily at her. “What’s wrong?” 

 

Helen gripped her shoulder. “I—I thought you were dead.” 

 

Before she could stop herself Aline brought her bloodied hand up to touch Helen’s cheek. Helen went still, blue green eyes finding Aline’s dark ones. 

 

“Believe me.” Aline whispered. “It’ll take more than an explosion for you to get rid of me.” She cleared her throat. “Besides, I’d hate to miss the trouble you get us into.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was short and rushed but I got it out for haline day ahhhhhhh


	8. sophideon— “how much of that did you hear?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i miss them

White flowers wound around the pillars of the sanctuary, startlingly bright in the dim light. Sophie sat on the stone steps, her knees pulled up to her chest. The position reminded her of when she was young, sitting on the thresholds of doorways, mending her stockings and soaking in the weak sunlight that crept through the city smog. 

 

When she’d first come to the institute the sanctuary had been a sort of safe haven for her. A place where a non-shadowhunter could find a moment of peace. Sophie remembered when her scar was still fresh, when she couldn’t bear the stifling superiority of the shadowhunters or Will’s snide remarks. When she’d come to watch the fountain’s water flow almost silently in the echoing vastness of the room. 

 

And now  _ she  _ was a shadowhunter. Sophie absently traced the dark runes on her arm. Once the marks had been a reminder of what she’d never amount to. Now they were symbols of how far she’d come. How far away she was from that scared, lonely girl on the streets. 

 

How far they’d all come. Every time Will smiled at her instead of sneer Sophie felt something in her rejoice. They were no longer those wounded children, Will and her. 

 

Only Jem, frozen out of time, would not journey with the rest of them. Sophie’s heart ached when she watched Tessa reach for him, her yearning written on her face for the whole world to see, as if she could will Jem back into his eerily absent body. Although Sophie supposed Jem would follow them in his own way, even if he was forced to remain apart. 

 

A memory came to her, clear as day. The song she’d been singing when Thomas and Agatha had died. The way the notes had carried out into the courtyard as she opened the windows to air out Charlotte and Henry’s room. The way the song was the only thing she had heard before the yelling started. 

 

Sophie began to sing under her breath, the tune echoing off the sanctuary walls, muffled by the white faerie flowers. She couldn’t remember where she’d learned the song. A vague memory of her mother singing as she did laundry came to her. The way the hot water in the tub had cracked her mother’s knuckles so badly that she’d rub the grease from their one cooking pan into her skin. Sophie remembered that it was worse in the winter, when the bitter cold made her mother’s hands bleed constantly. She remembered hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t have to split her hands open when she was older. 

 

She remembered singing when she became a parlor maid and the warm house more than made up for the rations and the strict head of staff, at least until she was expected to give up everything to the rich son who leered at her from across the room as she served tea.

 

She remembered singing the song on the filthy street, rocking back and forth in time with the music in an attempt to steady herself, bloody rag pressed to her face, pain making her delirious. So delirious she’d thought she was hallucinating the woman who no one else could see, the woman who’d taken her somewhere so warm and quiet Sophie had thought she may actually have died, because death seemed more logical than the shadow world. 

 

A draft blew through the sanctuary, making Sophie’s flimsy nightgown flutter against her legs. She was suddenly struck by how terribly ridiculous she’d look, a grown woman humming to herself in the near dark.

 

Bright witchlight flared, momentarily blinding her. When her eyes adjusted she saw Gideon, dressed in his nightclothes, hair sleep tousled, standing barefoot in front of her. Sophie had never been used to the way shadowhunters could be so quiet. Whenever she found herself walking silently she did a double take. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Gideon asked, looking down at her, eyes heavy with sleep.

 

“What are  _ you  _ doing here?” She asked him, leaning back on her hands and meeting his gaze.

 

Gideon sighed. “I missed your warmth.” 

 

Sophie’s stomach twisted. She still wasn’t used to casual affection, she’d never been used to it and that Gideon could so easily bring up them sleeping together, was something she didn’t know if she’d ever understand. 

 

“How much of that did you hear?” She asked, watching the light cast his curls into shadows. 

 

Gideon yawned and sat down next to her, the warmth of his body and the hard muscles under the fabric of his shirt pressing into her side. “You have a good voice.” 

 

Sophie laughed, glad that she didn’t have to explain to him, glad that he was content to simply keep her company. “Thank you.” 

 

Gideon yawned again and rested his head on her shoulder, hair tickling her chin. “Mind if I join you?” 

 

His breathing evened out before she could respond, and minutes later he began to snore softly. Sophie felt herself smiling in the dark, the witchlight now extinguished. How lucky she was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sophie makes me so fucking emo someone hold me 
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated <3 thanks for reading!


End file.
